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Viewing Sunset Boulevard for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

Sunset Boulevard (1950)

What's the AFI Project, you ask? For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here: http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

Sunset Boulevard is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#12)
100 Movie Quotes (#7 - Norma Desmond: "All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up;" #24 - Norma Desmond: "I am big. It's the pictures that got small.")
25 Film Scores (#16)
The Revised Top 100 (#16)

Sunset Boulevard was next up on the list and, therefore, next up on my Netflix queue (I do love that service). I had never seen this movie and did not really know what to expect, past the infamous "ready for my close-up" line. I didn't realize that it was the concluding line of the movie, and I was a little perturbed by that. Nothing is given away, really, if you've never seen the movie before, but still! It says something for the film, that the last line has become one of those pop culture idioms, bandied about in all sorts of situations (have my make-up on? I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille!). I still hate that it was the last line; I sort of kept waiting for it and waiting for it, and that probably distracted me a little from appreciating the film itself...but not much.

Sunset Boulevard refers to a concrete strip in Hollywood and also to this film satire written (in part) and directed by Billy Wilder. It's also a noir film in the classic sense: the film opens with a murder and the body of Joe Gillis (William Holden) floating in a Hollywood swimming pool; Gillis tells the story of how he ended up in that pool in flashback and as a ghost, of sorts. Gillis is a screenwriter, down on his luck and in piles of debt. While running from repo men after his fancy car, he pulls into what appears to be an abandoned garage of an abandoned mansion, only to discover that the house is occupied by former silent film actress (in real life and in the film!) Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) and her man-servant, Max (Erich von Stroheim, the silent film director in real life). If the house weren't spooky enough, Norma and her obsession with her one-time fame (cut short by the advent of sound in film) is enough to make your hair stand on end. Norma finds out that Joe is a screenwriter and commissions him to help her edit a script she's been working on to plot her "return" ("comeback" is such an ugly word). Joe realizes that the script is awful, but she offers to pay him handsomely, buys him fancy presents, and "keeps" him in a stately room in her house. It becomes clear that she is just a lonely woman, pining for her limelight, until Joe takes up with Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson), a reader at Paramount looking to become a screenwriter herself, in a joint effort to rework one of his scripts. At that point, Joe's uncomfortably comfortable life becomes complicated, to say the least.

This movie has a lot of layers. On the one hand, it is a biting, merciless swipe at the Hollywood machine, made even more effective by the fact that there are cameos from several old-time Hollywood biggies, not the least of which includes the man himself, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Casting an actual silent film actress was a stroke of genius (her old films could be mined for versions of Swanson's younger self). On the other hand, it's a murder mystery with noir narration, playing up some Hollywood conventions of the period to over-the-top effect. On still another hand, the noir aspect comes off a bit tongue-in-cheek, with some hammy and cheesy lines from Holden's Gillis that leave the viewer perplexed as to whether they should laugh or cringe. Apparently, Wilder wrote it originally as a comedy, and it retains some comedic flavor, even thought the events of the story are anything but funny.

I liked this film, but it wasn't perfect, in my eyes. I know many people love it, and it's been ranked highly on AFI's original and revised movie lists, but there were things I couldn't get over, mostly what I see to be narrative and direction flaws. Norma, as a character, is incomplete - or contains too many superfluous bits of randomness. Gloria Swanson played her with great gusto (she practically embodies the phrase "over the top"), and that paints the picture of crazy quite nicely, but random factoids pop in and out of her story that seem to have no place in the overall arc of her character, whereas other bits of the story seem to have obvious holes. Some of it is simply to drive home her eccentricities, such as the introductory (but random) death of her beloved monkey, which is also a funny, satricial bit to set the mood not only of eccentricity but of excess. Some of it just left me wondering: she had three husbands? Where did they all go (no spoilers here, folks)? Also, she was always a bit dotty, but why did she break with reality during the concluding moments, during this particular event? Other than her zeal for fame and maybe some guilty feelings on her part for various behaviors, why then? It seems that too much was left out of the picture, even if the picture's focus was meant to include Joe too, and I don't think I was supposed to be left guessing. Unless I missed something waiting for the "close-up" line.

Joe was also an imperfect character, but at least his imperfections were consistent. I simply kept thinking that he was not very bright; none of his decisions were good until his final decision, but at least his character story had motivation: the high life of Hollywood versus the alternative of a $35/week desk job in Ohio, and at least, he strived for last minute redemption. Norma had motivation too, mostly, arising from loneliness and hunger for the adorations she used to enjoy, but I just felt like there were too many loose ends. If I was meant to be kept guessing, it worked, but I don't feel like this is one of those movies that had that intention, since the film opens with the "it" of the whodunit.

There was also some erratic pacing. The film, already a slow and methodical flashback account of a murder mystery, slows up considerably during the parts in which Joe is especially enjoying the perks of escorting the aging starlet about town. While his narrative voice waxes about the "prison" he's found himself in, the movie shows him shadowing Norma to bridge games and attending not-so-well-attended soirees. I'm sure it's meant to give the viewer a sense of irony, as well as give Joe the opportunity to encounter Betty randomly a few times, but it brings the movie to a slow crawl, and I found myself checking how much time had elapsed on the film by that point.

What I did like was the photography and lighting, rendering Norma's decrepit mansion almost like a haunted house, occupied by the ghosts of her lost career. My favorite shot was when Norma and Joe are watching one of her old silent films, and she gets into one of her impassioned fits about making her return, and she stands up, her face pointed toward the flickering light of the movie projector, a ghostly reminder, perhaps, of the star she used to be. The art direction was also wonderful: I found myself studying all of the props and trinkets lining Norma's mansion, an extension of her somewhat-mad self. The most effective prop, and I wonder just how it came into creation, was her eccentric little cigarette holder. I think that was the best material representation of her madness in the entire film.

The performances were also good. William Holden is pretty much always good, and Gloria Swanson was just so over-the-top, so theatrical. As was the score, which received a top 25 ranking. I don't remember anything particular about it, less than 12 hours later, but I do remember that it was as melodramatic as Norma Desmond herself.

Still, I'm finding it hard to say I loved the film because I really didn't, if for no other reason than this film, more than others I've seen to date, felt really dated and not in that charmingly nostalgiac way. Maybe that was the point too, but I just don't hold this film up in as high esteem as others might.

Thusly, it does not pass the test. And as to ratings, I think it's squarely an 8 for being very good but with minor flaws. It gets points for taking on Hollywood when the system held so much sway (reportedly, studio heads were not happy with it), but as entertainment, I just didn't find myself in love with it, classic last line or no.

Actually, I liked the other quote better: "I am big. It's the pictures that got small." I feel it is so much more representative of Sunset Boulevard and the main character; alas, it's not as well-known and didn't come with Gloria Swanson's huge, insane eyes and slow approach toward the camera, but it's got the essence of the satirical subtext of the film.

Posted Monday, June 30, 2008 9:24 AM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

Revisiting (Sort of) It's a Wonderful Life for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

It's a Wonderful Life (1946)

What's the AFI Project, you ask? For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here: http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

It's a Wonderful Life is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#11)
100 Years...100 Passions (#8)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Mr. Potter is the #6 villain, and George Bailey is the #9 hero)
100 Most Inspiring Movies (#1)
The Revised Top 100 (#20)
10 Top 10's (#3 Fantasy)

True confessions time: up until now, watching this film for my silly little AFI project and reaching #11 on the original list, I had never watched It's a Wonderful Life all the way through (ducking, anticipating tomatoes). That's why the title of this bloggy review says "sort of;" I mean, it's impossible not to catch at least part of this movie during its annual hundreds of rotations on cable at Christmastime, but that was really the trouble, you see. I managed to catch bits and pieces of this classic, usually around the time George Bailey (James Stewart) gets desperate and suicidal, but I have never had the privilege of watching the film start to finish. It's a good thing I had this project, then, and that my parents consider this a necessity for any self-respecting DVD collection, or I couldn't begin to call myself any kind of "maven" in the Spouty vein (I don't really call myself maven anyway, but that's for another entry at another time).

For the two people who don't know, It's a Wonderful Life is about a man - an any man and an every man. George Bailey had dreams of sailing the world and engineering modern cities and skyscrapers, but life happened to him first. He sacrificed for his kid brother Harry and got a deaf ear. He gave up college and a trip to Europe to save his father's struggling Savings and Loan in the face of the money-grubbing Mr. Potter (Lionel Barrymore). He stayed in the "two-bit" town of Bedford Falls, only to fall in love with and marry the beautiful Mary Hatch (Donna Reed) and have four glorious children. On Christmas Eve, when the Bailey Brothers Savings and Loan is facing bankruptcy and the bearing down of the villanous Mr. Potter with jail time ahead for George, since money was misplaced by his Uncle Billy (Thomas Mitchell), George becomes a desperate man at the end of his rope. The answers of many prayers from the friends he's come to make and the family he's come to build result in Clarence Oddbody, Angel Second Class, in pursuit of his very own set of wings, descending from Heaven to help George see that his is really a wonderful life after all.

This is one of those films that, especially for newer generations, you want to believe is cheesy and dated and for the "old folks" to enjoy at Christmastime. You never expect it to creep up and hit you the way it does, in a way that makes you relate to the characters, especially George. It's a Wonderful Life seems at first like a hokey movie, filled with cliched idioms of Americana; a schmaltzy Frank Capra special, designed to yank at the heartstrings in all sorts of obvious ways. What people, especially from newer generations, I think, fail to realize is that this film contains some universalisms that transcend the time and year in which it was made. It's a dark movie on one hand, bevied just enough by a comedic prologue and a happy ending, that speaks to despair and hope and love and friendship and to things that all generations have in common, even if now, they seem to be on a larger, worldwide scale. There will always be a Mr. Potter out to line his pockets on the sweat of the backs of the working class, and there will always working class heroes, fighting for some independence and some slice of the American dream. There will always be men and women with lost hopes and dreams, ideals forgotten in the face of realities. There will always be times of desperation that yield unexpectedly miraculous fixes.

It's the themes of this movie, and the touching and brilliant performance by quintessential everyman Jimmy Stewart, that makes this film its own sort of masterpiece, worthy of several AFI lists. It walks a fine line, examining both sides of human nature but not compromising on the dark side in the telling.

In fact, as a story, it really is quite perfect because it never sugarcoats the portrait it's trying to paint. I don't know that there's anything spectacular about the filmmaking itself; nothing about the technical elements like the art direction or cinematography or music jump out at me. It's just the way this story unfolds and how well it's performed.

In many ways, this film reminds me of A Christmas Carol, only putting Bob Cratchett in the place traditionally occupied by Ebeneezer Scrooge. The Scrooge in this film would be Mr. Potter; George is Bob, but in his most desperate hour and in need of a little guidance from his guardian angel Clarence. By the same token, this original take on that story has been often imitated and never duplicated. It's a Wonderful Life has been something of a groundbreaker for fantasies in which men and women examine what the world might have been without them. This theme gets used a lot even now - Adam Sandler's Click was a recent example.

This movie makes me laugh and cry and smile and nod and relate to the characters, and that's really what watching a film should be about. Its universal themes are what give it its place in film history. Reading the blurbs on the film's Spout page, it's surprising that the film did not become successful until the 70s, when it's copyright lapsed, but in many ways, that's just how tellingly ahead of its time it was, even though It's a Wonderful Life, itself, is a snapshot of a bygone era when small towns and their way of life were more mainstream than that of the big metropolises. The film contains truths that resonated with audiences three decades after its release and continue to resonate today.

As to my own personal feelings about It's a Wonderful Life, I think it definitely gets a 9 for being perfectly entertaining. I also think that it passes the test. After all this, I'm glad I finally got to watch the whole film, as I related to George Bailey quite a bit. The film is both inspiring and bittersweet, but at its core, it reminds us all to celebrate what we have, for we're all richer than we know, and it's a great film to strike that kind of balance with that wonderful message.

Posted Sunday, June 29, 2008 9:30 PM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

Revisiting Schindler's List for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

Schindler's List (1993)

What's the AFI Project, you ask? For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here: http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

Schindler's List is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#9)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Oskar Schindler is the #13 hero, and Amon Goeth is the #15 villain)
100 Most Inspiring Movies (#3)
The Revised Top 100 (#8)
10 Top 10's (#3 Epic)

Having seen Schindler's List a couple of times in the past, I was reluctant to revisit this one via my Netflix subscription this week for this project. Not because the movie is horrible: on the contrary, I am of the opinion that it is one of the finest films ever made anywhere. A bold statement, I know, and I'll get to that in a minute, but the reason why I was reluctant to revisit this film is because it affects me so much (as it should), that I am wrecked for days afterward, and if I watch it close enough to bedtime (as I did this time around), it kind of gets stuck in my head and even my dreams. Schindler's List is an uncompromising look at one of the grossest atrocities in human history, it's the film that should singlehandedly bat down the naysayers surrounding the greatness of Steven Spielberg, and it's a beyond moving portrait of a man's transformation from scoundrel businessman to hero. I wonder about anyone who doesn't find themselves stirred by this film, which I feel is the whole package.

The film is something of a biopic. As the Nazis invade Poland in World War II and begin to relocate Jews to the ghettos, Oskar Schindler (Liam Neeson, in a tour de force performance) begins to see opportunities to profit from the Nazis' actions. He starts an industrial manufacturing company making pots and pans for the military, and he staffs his company with Jews from the Krakow ghetto, an unpaid and unquestioning source of labor. While his blatant profiteering and establishment of what is essentially slave labor may be appalling, both he and his plant manager, Itzhak Stern (Ben Kingsley), soon realize that to work in Schindler's factory is to prolong survival, as the Jews are gradually and increasingly sent to concentration camps. Plans start to go awry when, as the war progresses, the Krakow ghetto is transferred into a forced labor camp overseen by Commandant Amon Goeth (Ralph Fiennes), a man who seems to be the true embodiment of evil. Though Schindler tries to convince himself at one point that Goeth is really a good guy affected by the war and his orders, the Jewish prisoners know that Goeth is an overweight alcoholic who likes to shoot prisoners for sport from his balcony and has a secret love for a Jewish woman in his employ, contrary to the edicts of his party. It's watching Goeth and the actions of his officers that spark a crisis of conscience within Schindler, and he starts bribing German officials including Goeth and gradually buying the freedoms of the Jews who work in his factory, which has since changed to a munitions operation. Those that made Schindler's List ultimately survived the Holocaust - but not without other challenges to overcome.

This is one of those films in which everything is truly great. There are no flaws in my eyes; this is a qualified masterpiece (and a perfect 10 on the ratings scale). The acting is brilliant. Liam Neeson was nominated for an Oscar; he didn't win because Tom Hanks won for Philadelphia that year, and personally, I find that contest a tough call. I sometimes think Neeson's complex, emotionally ambiguous, and ambitious performance is sorely underrated. He becomes this man so completely, his motivations are never obvious. Schindler seems to be able to see both sides of an equation handily without committing to either side, and that kind of balance is hard to strike in real life, much less portray on screen. And Ralph Fiennes, though he sounds a little like Kermit the Frog in this picture, plays this villain with a certain gusto that leaves you feeling reviled. You want to believe Schindler, when he posits that Goeth is really just a good guy affected by his circumstances, but the viewer realizes quickly that Goeth's circumstances merely give him an excuse to exercise impulses for which he would otherwise be restrained. I think it was brave for Fiennes to take up this role in the first place; his performance is chilling to the bone.

While the performances are perfection, Schindler's List is also so effective because of the filmmaking elements. This was clearly a passion project for Spielberg, and it shows through every technical element, from the Art Direction--with the stark and disarming recreations of the ghetto tenements, labor camps, and even Auschwitz, the most horrific of the concentration camps--to the Cinematography with its hazy black and white effect, making it seem as if the viewer is watching old news reel footage but with the "inside" take. I found it highly interesting that Spielberg and his director of photography chose to use color at key points, such as following the little girl wandering aimlessly through the carnage of the liquidation of the Krakow ghetto, which made her death later in the film that much more resonant.

I was also impressed with the lighting effects and camera angles. The camera really becomes sort of the omniescient narrator in this film, switching from one subject, from one voice, to another. This is most evident when it goes from behind closed doors, such as Schindler's office, with lighting that seems to shroud Schindler and his moral ambiguity, to the camera in motion in the streets, following Jews as they flee from violence and incarceration. Other evident examples that haunt: the shots of the rooftops of Krakow during the liquidation at night, with the flashing lights of gunfire in various windows and the smoke of discharged weaponry filling the sky; the stark work lights on the yards of the Auschwitz camp, rendering a glowing effect to what you first think are snowflakes, until the camera pans to the fiery inferno above the incinerator, and so on.

Then: there is John Williams' understated and moving score underlying the whole piece. AFI didn't rank this film's score among its 25 greatest, which is a shame. I think it's one of the best, most fitting pieces of music to highlight a motion picture's images ever produced. Mr. Williams rightfully won the Oscar, and I will be carefully listening to all of the other scores on the list. I do think this score is better than Leonard Bernstein's score for On the Waterfront, but I think he was ranked among the 25 because it was his only film score, and he's Leonard Bernstein. I felt that his On the Waterfront showed some similarities to the music from West Side Story (though I think On the Waterfront predated even the theatrical play). Mr. Williams themes and composition are completely unique to this picture and don't bear any similarities to any of the other 40+ films he's composed music for. I wish he had made the list, and it was brilliant to use violin virtuoso Itzhak Perlman in the orchestral arrangement.

Schindler's List is a true masterpiece on every level, and it succeeds in what it sets out to do: paint a searing portrait of the Holocaust and pay homage to an unlikely hero, all without exploring any father-son issues, as I hear Spielberg is wont to do. What's even more amazing is that, at 3 hours or more in length, you don't feel the time go by, no matter how much you may want to shield your eyes or look away. The film is as gripping in what I will call its "negative entertainment" (this is not a fun movie to watch, by any means) as it is a filmmaking marvel.

Because it's so hard to watch, though, and even though I've watched it a few times (this may have been the third or fourth), it could never pass the test. I only watch this film when I have purpose to do so, like for a silly movie-watching project. I could never buy this movie because I could never feel compelled to watch it just for the heck of it. You get the full effect of it watching it once, anyway, and everyone who hasn't really should. It might change your life.

Posted Monday, June 23, 2008 8:39 AM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

Revisiting On the Waterfront for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

On the Waterfront (1954)

What's the AFI Project, you ask? For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here: http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

On the Waterfront is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#8)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Terry Malloy is the #23 hero)
100 Movie Quotes (#3 - Terry Malloy: "You don't understand! I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I could've been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am.")
25 Film Scores (#22)
100 Most Inspiring Movies (#36)
The Revised Top 100 (#19)

I was able to borrow On the Waterfront. I watched it a few days ago and have spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about how I feel about this film. Many people seem to love it. I really kind of don't love it. I really really like it, but I don't love it. I love parts. What I do love about this movie, what I feel is the heart of the movie and what makes it so likable, is Marlon Brando and his performance. Either he is perfectly cast or simply the real-life embodiment of Terry Malloy, the main character. His performance engages the viewer so wholeheartedly, it is difficult not to be moved by the picture.

I love certain scenes and shots. I love the simplicity of the art direction. But: this is the second time I've tried to watch this movie, and I've fallen asleep both times.

Keep in mind that I like dramas, even when they are slow-moving. I don't know why this film has given me the dozes more than once. Fortunately, this time, I was able to rewind the film and catch up later, but I still watched it in two parts, and I wonder about that.

Terry Malloy is a washed up ex-prizefighter who is now in the employ of Johnny Friendly (Lee J. Cobb), a union boss who rules the waterfront with an iron fist. He's being investigated by various law enforcement officials because they know he's been involved in several eep-quiet murders, but witnesses on the waterfront play "D & D" (deaf and dumb). Terry unwittingly sets up Joey Doyle for a plummet from a rooftop while running an errand for Johnny Friendly, and seeing this initiates a crisis of conscience and even of faith for Terry, particularly when Father Barry (Karl Malden) informs him that Joey was killed to protect Johnny's interests. What makes it especially difficult for him is that Joey's sister Edie (Eva Marie Saint) is determined to find Joey's killer, or, at least, witnesses to support that he was killed by Johnny Friendly, but Terry finds himself falling for Edie and vice versa. When Father Barry and another worker are beaten for speaking out, Terry feels compelled to tell the truth, not only to Edie but to the cops, putting himself in hot water in the process, and making him very unpopular not only with Johnny Friendly, but with his brother Charley (Rod Steiger) and with the other guys just trying to make a living.

If I get sleepy watching this film, I think it's about the way the character development unfolds; the viewer isn't told everything up front. The viewer follows Terry's crisis of conscience, and that's how we learn about him and, to some extent, the others affecting him, and it happens over the course of the whole film. I'm not saying this is good or bad, but I didn't really feel engaged to the movie until he started courting Edie and until the famous "contender" speech. Terry is who and what makes you care. You are rooting for him because he's making all the tough decisions, even at the expense of losing his brother Charley, who is painted as self-serving and without faith in his "bum" of a younger brother.

The acting in this film is what gives it its credibility, I think. Marlon Brando's performance is really quite perfect and believable. Like I said, at no time did I fail to believe he was Terry. The scene from whence the #3 AFI quote comes is so moving; you feel like it's coming close to melodrama, but it never gets there because Brando's performance is so earnest and honest and delicately restrained. And Rod Steiger's Charley quietly sits there, listening but for a few unsatisfactory excuses,,his expression mixed with frustration, humility, and pity. It radiates real emotion and is played for its truth: the what might have been factor and the sense that someone Terry has looked up to failed to back him up when he needed it most.

That's also where On the Waterfront succeeds; it contains some universalisms that transcend the mere story it tells. There will always be corruption at the expense of the rank and file; struggles for self; questions in the infallibility of family or friends that you felt should have looked out for you (because they are only human too); raw emotion and passion; and crises of conscience and faith. The story contains all of these layers, even though it seems to simply be about a man standing up for himself, even when doing so could get him killed.

A few other scattered thoughts I have had: I wonder why this movie didn't make AFI's Love Story list. I feel like the budding, though reluctant, relationship between Terry and Edie is much more passionate and stirring than, say, the dysfunctional joining together of Benjamin and Elaine in the Graduate. The scene in which Terry declares his love for Edie, albeit mixed with underlying rage on Terry's part and confused disappointment on Edie's, pulled at my heartstrings so much. Yet, it's nowhere on that Passions list. Maybe it was nominated, but it didn't make it, and that's a travesty. So, the love story isn't the main thrust of the film; it's still a gripping and realistic one complete with passion and heart flutters.

I like how this film used on-location settings in New York and New Jersey to paint the picture of the gritty, unyielding life working on the docks. The film won many Oscars, including for Art Direction, though the most impressive aspect of the art direction was simply choosing these locations and retaining their flavor. It gives the film a timeless realism that most films do not have.

Still, I don't love this movie as much as I feel like maybe I should. It just doesn't hold my interest except in a few choice scenes: the contender scene, the scenes during which Terry courts Edie, and the scenes in the church when Father Barry attempts to convince the workers to stand up for themselves. I'm sure from a filmmaking perspective, it's considered a masterpiece. The masterpiece for me here is purely and simply Marlon Brando and his performance. He deserved that Oscar in so many ways, and for me, he's the reason to watch this film.

So: I give this film a 9 for perfectly entertaining, but only in the sense that Brando is perfectly entertaining, even if the film itself has successfully lulled me to sleep twice. I don't know why that is, and I don't think it's a flaw of the movie (there are no pacing problems, really). It just is what it is. As for the test, because of the aforementioned tendency, I don't think I'm going to buy it. On the Waterfront is a classic, but it's just not one I find myself drawn to as much as others.

Posted Saturday, June 21, 2008 12:49 PM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

American Film Institute's 10 Top 10

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Greetings and salutations!

If you weren't already aware, the American Film Institute has released one of its annual lists ranking American films in some sort of clever way. This year, having revised their top 100 of all time last year, the AFI chose to send ballots out to rank the top 10 films in ten specific genres, giving films that might not otherwise make some of the greatest lists a chance. The ten genres include animation, fantasy, scifi, westerns, sports films, gangster films, romantic comedies, mystery, courtroom dramas, and epics. You can see the complete lists, along with all of the other lists, at www.afi.com, but you do have to register to access them. Or, you can visit the Oscars group here on Spout, because I've been compiling the lists slowly but surely there in conjunction with my own bloggy project of watching all of the AFI films.

Now, since we've been given a new list, and since my neurotic little project has been underway for awhile, and since the AFI tends to focus on the same films time and again, rightly or not, I wanted to note for any followers of the AFI Project that I am going to go back and edit the entries involving films that have made this new list. In particular, the following films corresponding with this project will have their entries edited:

The Wizard of Oz, Star Wars, The Godfather, To Kill a Mockingbird, Gone with the Wind, and Lawrence of Arabia

These films made the new list and have already been watched (recently) and blogged about by yours truly (just as recently), so they have been checked off appropriately. All of the other films listed will be viewed and blogged about in due course and, perhaps, discussed in various genre specific groups here on Spout. It's an interesting exercise to see if you agree with AFI or not. Some of the genres boasted easy-to-predict number ones, but others were a complete surprise. What are your thoughts?

In the meantime, on with the project...

Posted Wednesday, June 18, 2008 12:01 AM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

Revisiting The Graduate for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

The Graduate (1967)

What's the AFI Project, you ask? For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here: http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

The Graduate is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#7)
100 Funniest Films (#9)
100 Years...100 Passions (#52)
100 Greatest Film Songs (#6 - "Mrs. Robinson")
100 Movie Quotes (#42 - A Braddock family friend: "Plastics;" #63 -Benjamin Braddock: "Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?")
The Revised Top 100 (#17)

I was happy to revisit The Graduate because I think the first and only time I watched it was around the time I graduated from high school because a friend thought watching it would be a clever way to spend an afternoon in celebratory anticipation of our pending commencement. Personally, I don't think this film is truly relatable to any teenager in or around their high school years. I think underlying messages, what exists of them, are more universal for the twenty-something set who have embarked or about to embark into that thing people call the "real world." Now, whether the film is really all that relatable to any population who did not constitute a member of that age group in the late sixties is up for debate. Still, this film is one of those films that are worth a second look, and thanks to Netflix and this silly project o' mine, I had an excuse to revisit it.

The Graduate refers to Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman, in his first major film role), who has just graduated from college and is now at a loss as to what he will be doing with his future. He seems adamant to not turn out like his parents - who seem to fail to understand him like any oher generationally challenged family of that era - though he exhibits rapaciously cavalier qualities that they also possess. Their sophisticated naivete translates most poignantly when Benjamin is comically seduced by one of their family friends, the cuckoldy Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft), who seems to need Benjamin as much as she uses him to stave off the loneliness of an empty marriage. Troubles arise when the affable Benjamin falls in love with the Robinsons' daughter Elaine (Katharine Ross), despite his initial protests to his parents about dating her. Benjamin is then caught in the middle between covetous mother and confused daughter.

The Graduate is described here by the All Movie Guide and by many critics and film historians as the iconic film that struck a chord with the growing malaise and bubbling counter-culture of the late 60s. Benjamin is the anti-revolution revolutionary, so it says at the bottom of this page. His apparent apathy becomes the symbol of unrest and boredom for all of that generation that protested the actions of members of the preceding generation. He has a certain sexual promiscuity that defies social decorum yet a capacity to love fiercely and passionately. He rails against the conventions of his parents and society while simultaneously being bonded by those conventions. He is an enigma in an obvious way.

Here is my trouble with this film: I am not sure that Benjamin's role in this story and the situations of his character transcend generation. I'm not sure that The Graduate is timeless enough to be relatable to all audiences. I see this film as a pop culture icon depicting an electric moment in history and sort of the societal and generational attitudes of that moment. Otherwise, the film is full of unsympathetic characters of many types: Benjamin is kind of a doofus. He is apparently eliglble for graduate school and has all of these wonderful degrees and honors, but he is largely idiotic in the context of the real world. Mrs. Robinson, deliciously played by Anne Bancroft, may be a woman in a loveless marriage, but she steamrolls over doofus Benjamin, preying on his weaknesses, which may be the point, but represents a separate lapse in morals and ethics (sort of anti- the generation at issue, actually). Mr. Robinson is an innocent bystander, even if he has neglected his wife. And why Elaine should succumb to the entreaties of the slightly creepy and desperate Benjamin surpasses my ability to understand. Are their character types a subtle commentary on the affectations of youth and family of the time? The film was released the same year as the Summer of Love after all.

Still, though it captures the spirit of a decade in which I was not alive to enjoy, The Graduate posseses some groundbreaking and truly iconic elements that make it sort of a great film in the American film lexicon. Mike Nichols' direction (which earned him an Oscar, back when he was young and cutting edge) was, in fact, cutting edge, playing with angles and lighting in a way that connects the viewer with Benjamin, despite his doofus-like tendencies. The performances are all very very good, particularly from Mrs. Robinson herself, and the soundtrack is unparalleled, showcasing Simon and Garfunkel in a very complimentary fashion as it relates to the film. "Mrs. Robinson" is one of the AFI's greatest film songs, but the film also makes legendary use of "The Sound of Silence" and "Scarborough Fair."

The AFI rated The Graduate #52 on the love stories list, which sort of gives me great puzzlement. Considering how Benjamin and Elaine come together by the end of the movie, do you really believe that their bond is permanent? Especially when she looks sort of sad and bewildered. Plus, it's not a love story that causes my personal heart to pitapat; I would find it so creepy to be stalked by the man who had an affair with my mother. And, of course, the affair itself is not the love story in question, so I have a huge problem with this film making that list at all, much less at a fairly high position.

I find The Graduate flawed on many levels. Is it overrated? Maybe a little. The AFI dropped it ten spots on the revised list. I still think it has its place despite its flaws, which are largely in the story. Since the film was based on a novel, I can't fault the filmmakers too much for that. The technical elements of the film and the spirit of it are what make it as good as it is.

I will add, though, that the film slows up considerably about the time Benjamin decides to follow Elaine to Berkeley. I remember growing bored watching it the first time, at the tender age of 18, right around the same spot, and on second viewing, I grew quite dozy. It's through the Scarborough Fair sequence; maybe it's the song, but the film seems to take on this meandering, artsy atmosphere when it had been a quirky, dysfunctional drama up until the point. In that way, the film is sort of schizophrenic, and I think that's one of its largest flaws.

On a ratings scale, I would give it an 8 for being very good despite these minor flaws. As to my test, it doesn't pass, mostly because though the film amuses me on some level, it's not a film I relate to. Though I want to watch it again because Richard Dreyfuss apparently makes a cameo in his first screen role, and I completely missed it this time out! I think The Graduate is a landmark film but more a landmark exemplar for the decade in which it was produced than for the caliber of the film itself.

Posted Monday, June 16, 2008 10:33 PM by pippin06 | with 0 comments